A Day To Forget?
by Baker-Street-Potter-Head
Summary: The Sequel to A Night to Remember - After waking up together, Sherlock and Molly face the consequences. xx Lots of Sherlolly with John and Mary xx
1. New beginnings

A Day To Forget?

_Hiya guys! So, here it is, the follow up to my one-shot A Night To Remember (thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews on that story btw, love you guys so much xx). This took me a while; I just couldn't decide whose perspective to choose so I settled for both. I was considering making it a full blown chapter story after the events of A Night to Remember but I'm not so sure. If you like the idea, I'll certainly give it a go. Anyway, on with the show… xx_

It was another ordinary, dreary day in London as the married couple headed out of the airport, departed for their new lives together. John and Mary Watson had just returned from their week long honeymoon and it seems one of the pair has something else on their mind as they get into the cab…

"Look, babe, you've been on about it all week. Will you just let it go?" Mary was saying as her husband once again huffed about the events of their wedding. Mary was trying to relax for the long drive back to their new home but it seemed her husband had different ideas. John tried to be excited for his new life with his new wife. He was…he just couldn't get rid of the images of that fateful morning. He shuddered. Mary sighed.

"Ok, so what's the big deal? So, they slept together? So what? A lot of people did that night…," Mary was saying. The cab driver raised his eyebrows and attempted to drown out the conversation. John frowned.

"So what? So what? This is Sherlock! He doesn't…this isn't him. And also…," John shifted a little as he looked at his wife. With a glance towards the cab driver, he lowered his voice and continued, "the thought of my best friend having more…_fun _on my wedding night than me."

He had tried to word it so as not to offend Mary. He needn't have worried for Mary just laughed at him.

"Oh, love. I'm sorry, I tried to wake you but you were out for the count…," Mary said placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. John cursed under his breath and returned to his deep thoughts. The cab drivers eyebrows were threatening to hit the roof of the car.

This was strange to John. Sherlock never allowed himself to become involved with anyone before. But now he thought about it, John had began to notice little things between them, whether it be little glances shared or 'accidental' contact. Oh, John _knew _Sherlock wasn't as immune to the charms of the pathologist as he'd like to think. This thought made John even more uncomfortable.

"Maybe you don't know him as well as you think," Mary offered suddenly, pulling John from his thoughts, trying to help him through it. John sighed.

"Trust me, no one will ever fully understand Sherlock bloody Holmes," John rested his elbow on the window as he watched the airport slowly fade into the distance. Then a thought hit him…

"Anyway, what about you? Molly's _supposed _to be your best friend. Aren't you worried that her…being with Sherlock…would physically destroy her?" John asked, rounding on his wife. He was surprised to see her smiling as she turned to look out of her window.

"I think we're a little late for that," she sniggered. John frowned at his wife. The poor cab driver was convinced his eyebrows couldn't go any higher and settled for staring intently at the road.

"Oh, that's very sweet. I hope you remember that this is your fault," he said sarcastically, turning away. She looked at him now.

"Me? How is it my fault?" She asked shrilly. John turned to her and put on his best impression of his dear wife.

"'Let's have an open bar, love. I don't fancy letting our lovely guests having to pay for their drinks'," he smiled when he heard her swear under her breath.

_**1 week ago**_

The light from the windows poured into the elegant hotel room, illuminating the two bodies lying peacefully upon the classy bed. Molly Hooper sighed happily as she rested her head on the chest of none other than Sherlock Holmes. Their hands were clasped tightly on the bed next to them. The bed sheet only just covered their heavily sleeping forms. Sherlock opened his eyes wide suddenly, ignoring the burning sensation it brought from the light and the almighty headache that had somehow developed. As he allowed his eyes to adjust, he slowly glanced around the room and was startled to find some rather incriminating evidence. He was becoming increasingly intrigued about why he wasn't wearing anything, or why the absence of said clothing seemed to be because it had been thrown haphazardly around the room, or why the room itself was rather untidy to say the least, or why there seemed to be some kind of faint red substance smeared across his body…or, perhaps most startling of all, why an equally naked Molly Hooper was lying over him, her hand entwined with his. He groaned and placed his free hand over his face, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead. **What the hell have I done?** This was an incredibly awkward situation…one he had no idea how to handle…

Ok…maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe they could get through this and go back to normal, pretending that such an event never happened. Is it possible? He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She looked extremely peaceful and…content. No, much more than that. It was like she was made to lie there, next to him. He had to admit, he had never felt so…relaxed and peaceful. Like he didn't want to leave. A thought suddenly crossed Sherlock's brilliant mind. Perhaps it was still the alcohol talking but…what if this was meant to be? Would it be such a terrible thing if the great Sherlock Holmes admitted that this was all he really wanted? Now he was here, it was really difficult to dismiss these feelings. Sure, he had noticed her in the past, but he dismissed it as uninteresting. He could ignore them…but for how long? Lying here with Molly Hooper, the pathologist - no, his pathologist – he actually felt something resembling happiness. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't be able to stay away any more. As John had said many times before, Sherlock was a child that way. Once he had something good and that he enjoyed he couldn't get enough. And right now, lying in the warm arms of the rather lovely pathologist, he wouldn't be anywhere else. He breathed out a deep sigh. **There was that so hard?** He, Sherlock Holmes, needed Molly Hooper, in more ways than he ever thought possible…

He allowed his hand to fall softly onto her bare back, stroking it absent-mindedly as he thought about what to do. Molly sighed dreamily at his touch and snuggled into him more. Sherlock was shocked at the effect he had on her, the effect _she _had on _him_, shocked it had taken him so long to realise, shocked he had to actually get drunk and sleep with Molly to realise and shocked he actually realised these feelings without remembering what had happened to bring them up. His headache had started to subside slightly. Sherlock had always been good with hangovers. He assumed his brilliant mind was able to fix itself quickly for it to be able to feed off of information.

Suddenly, Molly started to stir. Panicking, Sherlock quickly closed his eyes, pretending to sleep. It was the only thing he could think of to avoid that conversation. He had only just realised for _himself _how much she meant to him and wasn't ready to tell her yet. A child indeed…

Molly blinked her eyes open, groaning slightly, clutching her head. She noticed, then, that something was different. She looked over her shoulder. A hand was placed on her lower back, on top of the bed sheet covering the rest of her. She gasped. She whipped her head round to see the sleeping consulting detective. She let her wildly spinning head fall softly onto his chest. **Oh great…this is just…great**. She tried and failed to remember how she had ended up in Sherlock Holmes' bed. There was a wedding…but that's about all she could manage. She looked around and could only muster one rather pleasing thought. **It must have been a good wedding…**

Molly gently lifted her head from him and detangled her hand from his, and was relieved when he didn't stir. She didn't want the extremely awkward conversation that she was sure would accompany being discovered in such a way. She imagined Sherlock would feel the same. She could collect her things, dress quickly and head for her room. Only she would know about it…

She carefully sat up and left the bed, trying her hardest to ignore the room spinning around her. She blinked furiously for a moment, trying to focus on the room. She swayed on the spot for a moment, before shaking her head and darting quietly around the room gathering items of her discarded clothing. Unbeknownst to Molly, Sherlock was watching her every move from his partially closed eyes, a slightly amused expression on his face. She was frantically searching around for her underwear for a few minutes, before giving up and rushing to the bathroom to dress.

Sherlock breathed out a sigh of relief. As far as she knew, she was the only one that knew about this…should it stay that way? Sherlock considered she would want to have the 'what now?' conversation. Yet, her behaviour suggested she wanted to be as far away as possible. He frowned, the unfamiliar feeling of confusion coming to him. Could she really go on knowing she had slept with the man she had been in love with for years and not even telling him or saying anything about it? Maybe she really wanted to forget it? Maybe she felt it was a mistake? Sherlock frowned. There were so many reasons why he should just let her get on with her life and forget this whole thing ever happened. And only one why he shouldn't…

Molly dressed quickly and silently. She wanted so much to go in there and tell him how much it had meant to her, even if she couldn't remember it. At least he wouldn't be able to tell her to forget the whole thing even happened. She hoped that, being hung over, Sherlock would be unable to deduce the state of his undress or the room. She took a deep breath and, praying he was still asleep, pulled the door open…

The bathroom door opened suddenly and Molly tiptoed hurriedly over to the bedroom door without so much as a glance towards Sherlock. He had to do something, it was now or never…

"Forgetting something?" he asked, sitting up and propping himself against the headboard of the bed. It was an enormous effort on Sherlock's part not to chuckle at the way she had jumped at the sound of his voice. She stopped dead but refused to look at him. She couldn't take the sight of him looking irresistible…once again.

"Um…s-sorry?" she stammered. She was rather nervous at what he might say, might do. He wasn't the most predictable of people. Well…of course, she knew what he'd say. It was a mistake…it can't happen again…maybe we should forget the whole thing even happened (like either of them could anyway)…let this awful secret die with us. The thought alone of hearing these words from the man she desperately loved brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them away quickly. When he didn't answer she was forced to turn around to look at him. Molly was surprised to see he had a slightly amused expression on his face. He raised his eyebrows, still smirking slightly and flicked his eyes upwards. She followed his gaze and squeaked. There, dangling from the chandelier of all places, was her missing underwear.

"What…how…oh, don't bother," she tried uselessly, cheeks flushing red. He was still bloody smirking. She stood awkwardly for a few moments before…

"Sher-Sherlock, I think we need to…," she was cut off by a voiced thought from Sherlock.

"I wonder whom that was down to," Sherlock was really enjoying himself now. Oh, he was smug. Wait…what? After a few moments of stunned silence and the rhythmic opening and closing of her mouth, Molly sighed.

"This is the opposite of how I expected you to react," Molly said, smiling a little as the mood lightened. Sherlock nodded slightly, shrugging.

"It's funny how things turn out. I see everything but I never anticipated this. What harm can it do? Apart from emotional distress and physical damage," he smiled again. She flushed, looking away, "I really don't see the problem with this situation. I believe what I'm trying to say is," he looked directly at her. "I don't regret it. Do you?"

It was a moment before Molly processed what he had said to her. Molly thought he must still be drunk. No, he definitely. He wouldn't say these things otherwise. She just stood there opening and closing her mouth, for the second time that morning, for a short while. He had looked up at her now and as their eyes met Molly could tell he was sober. Well, as sober as you can get after the night they had had. He was growing noticeably impatient waiting for her answer.

"Where's this…come from?" she asked, still slightly in shock. He shrugged.

"I cannot understand it. I tried to find any information as to why I feel these things, but the more I look I've…begun to see. I awoke this morning with a clear head, and an understanding of…I understand…well, the once tiny room I had encountered...has now become a full blown corridor…," he had begun to ramble. Molly had never seen Sherlock struggle to get a coherent sentence out before.

Molly officially had no idea what he was talking about but assumed it had something to do with this mind palace or something John had mentioned. After a few minutes of some incoherent mumbling, she smiled warmly at him.

"No, I don't regret it. Of course, I don't…not now not ever," she let her words sink in for a moment and Sherlock nodded silently. Molly glanced at the clock on the bedside table, one of the very things that hadn't been knocked to the floor. It was now mid-morning. She looked up at the chandelier again and cleared her throat.

"Um…I need to get them down," she blushed slightly, gesturing towards the chandelier. He nodded, making no indication he was about to help. She had at least thought he'd move from the middle of the bed so she could stand there. Sherlock, however, made no movement to do so, instead just sat there, the amusement back in his expression. She sighed and climbed onto the bed and stepped over him, her feet either side of him. She turned away from him to face the chandelier and could feel, with slight pride, his eyes raking over her form. Molly made a mental note to thank Mary for the lovely dress. She carefully detached her underwear, not wanting to have to pay for the chandelier as well. Suddenly, she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her waist and pull her back down to the bed. Before she could form a coherent thought and stop her vision from blurring, Sherlock had her lightly pinned to the bed and had leant forward to whisper low into her ear.

"I do hope you were not about to leave, Miss Hooper? Unless there's somewhere you'd rather be?" He was pleased to feel her smile as he kissed at her neck.

**Present Day**

John was stood outside 221B Baker Street, waiting. He was determined to talk to Sherlock, who he hadn't spoken to since the wedding. He took a deep breath and opened the door with the spare key. He wasn't about to exchange pleasantries. He had to sort this out so he could rid the image of the morning from his memory. He walked up the creaky stairs and, automatically, opened the door without knocking. Oh, how he wished he had knocked…

Sherlock and Molly were stood in the middle of the room, kissing extremely passionately, shirts open and hands roaming. They both sprang apart when John burst in and he noticed their heavy breathing, flustered faces and clumsy hands fumbling with righting their clothing. John's face could only be described as a picture…

For a few moments no one spoke, until…

"Who would like a cup of tea?" Mrs. Hudson called from downstairs.

"No…," John's voice came out higher than he expected. He cleared his throat. "No, thank you, Mrs. Hudson." He studied their faces. Molly looked about ready to die of embarrassment whilst Sherlock looked irritated and impatient.

"Um…so, what's this then?" John asked weakly. He really didn't know what to say. Molly opened her mouth but Sherlock beat her to it. He stepped next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Isn't it obvious?" He smirked.

_Ok, guys. I had real trouble with that one. I hoped I didn't put you off too much by Sherlock's reaction. I was tempted to have him 'freak out' but I thought fluffiness! And then…once again I got carried away. It was just too cute I couldn't resist. I am really sorry if I let you guys down. Xx Please review and let me know what you think xx thank you so much xx_


	2. Is this awkward?

_Hiya again, guys. Firstly, I just want to thank you all for your extremely kind support. I am so glad you agreed about the different Sherlock for once. So, this story is just going to start as being little Sherlolly moments and John being awkward, but I do have a plan…kind of. No, I have an idea at the very least. I hope you enjoy this…here's chapter 2 xx_

John was at a complete loss for words. The last thing expected to see when he walked into his old apartment was exactly the thing he had been greeted with. Well, what had happened during this week, then?

"Um…I…," John realised he sounded pathetic, but he was too shocked to care.

He would never expected this from Sherlock. Or Molly, come to think of it. It was rather a lot to swallow for John, who suddenly felt the need to sit down. Luckily, the sofa was behind him. Molly shifted uncomfortably in Sherlock's grip. The man himself seemed highly amused by this disruption.

"Is there anything you needed?" Sherlock asked, smirking towards John. He would never get used to _this _Sherlock…

"Um…no. I wanted to see you about…well, looks like it doesn't matter now," John stuttered, fiddling with his hands, avoiding eye contact with Sherlock.

"I assume you went to my room in the earlier hours of your wedding morning?" Sherlock asked, regarding John rather curiously. John slowly nodded, speech having left him. Molly gasped quietly. Sherlock, however, grinned broadly.

"How wonderful! I was concerned there was going to be a fanfare to which we announce ourselves," he had removed himself from Molly's side and was pacing – more like skipping – up and down 221B. John and Molly's expressions were of equal confusion. His apparent joy at avoiding telling people about his…_union_ with Molly was evident in his behaviour. John frowned.

"It doesn't bother you that I saw an…er…intimate moment?" John asked, carefully wording his sentences. Sherlock stopped his skipping and glanced at Molly, still bright red and looking at the floor.

"Intimate? We were sleeping and I doubt you were there when it was really intimate…," Sherlock shrugged and returned to his pacing. Molly snapped her head up.

"Sherlock!" Molly squeaked, embarrassment clear on her red face. John swore he would need therapy after this.

"Oh, ignore him. He's just upset he didn't get any on his own wedding night," Sherlock turned to face John now. John wanted to punch the smug look right off of Sherlock's proud face.

"How do you…?" John began.

"You never could handle champagne," Sherlock shot back. John could think of nothing else to do apart from storm out of the flat like a teenager. As he stomped down the stairs and slammed the front door shut, he considered the changed that now existed. Sherlock was different, Molly was different, and not in a bad way. He just had to accept the changes that came with it. He sighed and turned around, ready to go back into the flat when he phone beeped.

_Sorry SH_

John looked at the word. Sherlock must have been 'encouraged' to send that text. **Gotta love Molly.**

_No, I'm sorry. I overreacted. I'm happy for you two JW_

It took a while for John to receive an answer. He had given up hope of getting one when...

_Thanks SH_

John stared at his phone for a moment before tucking it away. **Maybe I can get used to this…**

The next few days were extremely busy for both Sherlock and Molly. Double shifts at the Hospital and extra cases kept them apart for several days. Sherlock couldn't even make it to St. Bart's on most of those days. This had made him rather irritable with John on several occasions…

"Look, we are here to find a dangerous killer so will you kindly assist me in examining this room?" he had snapped, the day before, when they were looking at a Uni student's dormitory.

It hadn't made matters easier when John was forced to go to St. Bart's instead, as Sherlock had a meeting with Lestrade. John entered the Hospital and braced himself for the equally bad tempered pathologist. It had now been 5 days since Sherlock and Molly had spent some "quality" time together. John gulped nervously as he walked down to the morgue and took a deep breath.

"Oh, there you are. I was worried you weren't…," Molly turned and her radiant expression dropped suddenly.

"Oh, hello John," she turned back to her work. On any other day, John would have been offended. He decided to let it slide.

"Hi. Have you finished Mr. Grey's autopsy reports for Sherlock?" Molly glanced onto her pile of paper works.

"Yes," she said, practically throwing him the report. He muttered a thank you, standing back a little. He flicked through the report and frowned.

"There's nothing here," John said, without thinking. Molly shot him a filthy look.

"I do know that, Doctor Watson. _I _was the one who had to cut the poor bastard up," she shook her scalpel at him and returned to her work. John, realising he shouldn't stay any longer, scarpered from the morgue. Molly tore her gloves off and ran her hands through her hair. **As soon as you finish, you'll get to see him. **She checked her phone and was pleased to see she had a new message.

_Hello, Miss Hooper SH_

She smiled at the formalities and was just happy to be communicating with him in some form.

_Hi, Mr. Holmes Mx_

There was a moment before her phone vibrated again.

_Just so you're aware, you have no idea what I'm going to do with you when I get the chance SH_

Molly blushed slightly and sighed.

_Oh, I think I do Mx_

The end of the week drew near and things were increasingly more difficult. John was flitting between two equally stressed and sexually frustrated individuals. John was so fed up by the end he was about to commit murder himself. The worst part was the clearly obscene texts Molly and Sherlock were exchanging. John had never seen Sherlock blush before. Late Friday evening, Sherlock had a breakthrough.

"Oh, OH! That is brilliant," he whipped his phone out and at lightning speed text Lestrade everything he needed to know. John was relieved if anything else. Who knew the case of a man murdered in broad daylight in his locked university room would be such a difficult one to crack?

"So, how was it done?" John asked as they headed home. Sherlock smiled proudly.

"The roommate," Sherlock said, rubbing his hands together happily.

"The roommate who was in another building at the time of the murder?" John questioned, confused.

"No, the hidden roommate. The homeless roommate they hid at night. He cleared off during the day and stayed at night. He snapped after they had a fight," Sherlock was saying. John lost interest halfway through his full explanation and began fantasising about sleep.

Once they had parted ways, Sherlock forced himself not to sprint to 221B. He wrenched the door open when he finally reached the flat. He threw his coat at the bottom of the stairs and ran to his flat. He was horrified at the sight that greeted him. Mycroft was sat in _his_ chair and was, judging by the bored look on Molly's face, telling her about his job. Molly jumped up from her and ran to throw her arms around Sherlock. He responded just as enthusiastically.

"I've missed you," she whispered into his shoulder. He answered by hugging her tighter. Mycroft set his tea down.

"It seems we have a lot to discuss, little brother," Mycroft said, with a sickening smile.

_I hope you liked that chapter. It was really to get the ball rolling. More moments coming up, Sherlolly fans so stay tuned! Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think and I'll be back soon… xxx_


	3. Revelations

_Welcome back, guys! all week I've been carrying around a memo pad where I've been jotting down ideas that come to mind. 26 pages…not bad. Hopefully, I can use them in this story or others that I decide to do. We'll see shall we? I am loving writing this and I hope you're enjoying it too. Thanks so much for all your kind support xx Here's chapter 3…_

Sherlock scowled at his older as he sat in the chair opposite. Molly was perched uncomfortably on the sofa. Sherlock had instructed her not to leave, despite Mycroft's prompts. Sherlock looked at his brother. He had been here a while and was clearly in no hurry to leave. Sherlock waited impatiently for Mycroft to speak. Annoyingly he just sat there, drinking his tea like royalty. Finally, he drained his cup.

"Not bad. Another pot if you don't mind, Doctor Hooper?" Mycroft said, clicking his fingers at her. Molly looked offended but her expression was nothing compared with the fury on Sherlock's face.

"Mycroft! Will you kindly hurry up and tell me what you are here to tell me or get out so I can…," Sherlock paused momentarily, choosing his words carefully, "go to bed."

Mycroft shifted in his seat and looked towards Molly, expecting her to leave. Molly rolled her eyes and stood up.

"I'll go and see how Mrs. Hudson is doing. She might like some company, at least," Molly said, shooting Mycroft a filthy look. She caught Sherlock's eye and saw the apology in them. She smiled and left.

"The matter I wanted to discuss was an…unusual situation I stumbled upon that occurred a few weeks ago, at Paradise Hotel. Are you familiar with it?" Mycroft asked, looking at Sherlock curiously. Sherlock's eyes widened as he suddenly realised why Mycroft was here. That nosy bastard…

"Vaguely. John held his wedding reception around the corner from there. He stayed there after," Sherlock replied, avoiding answering the subtle question Mycroft was asking. What business was it of his anyway?

"Vaguely? I'm not surprised…," Mycroft muttered, avoiding his brother's gaze now. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.

"Mycroft, get to the point," Sherlock ordered through gritted teeth. Mycroft raised his eyebrows in amusement.

"Now, now. It seems the walls have eyes as well as ears, little brother. I am certain you are aware of what I am referring to?" Mycroft announced smugly. Sherlock swallowed. He had wanted to protect Molly from his domineering family. It appeared Mycroft had other plans. He was suddenly furious again.

"You hacked into the hotel's security system so you could…_watch_ me all night?" Sherlock said, glaring at Mycroft who was leaning back in his chair, his hands resting on the arms. Sherlock decided he didn't care anymore. He stood up and paced the room. "Happy with what you found? There were no cameras in the room, unfortunately. Otherwise, I reckon even _you _would have blushed, dear brother. As far as you know, I, in a drunken frenzy, dragged the equally drunk Molly Hooper upstairs to my room and we didn't emerge until late the following morning. That, I can assure you, was not the end of the story."

Sherlock had stopped pacing and collapsed into the sofa. Mycroft was beginning to wish he hadn't come. All he was expecting was to embarrass Sherlock with the information he had found. But he never expected to find his brother in some kind of _arrangement _with the pathologist. Mycroft was so shocked to find his brother continuing his drunken mistake. Mycroft nodded slowly, having failed in his mission to humiliate his genius brother. He stood up and began gathering his things.

"Just answer me one thing, Sherlock," Mycroft said turning from the door. Sherlock opened his eyes. "What are the two of you calling yourselves. I mean, you are hardly the typical boyfriend."

Sherlock frowned. "I'm not really sure. I believe, right now, it's a 'friends with benefits' relationship. I understand that's what it is called," he said, returning to his deep thoughts. Mycroft nodded and left without another word. He was surprised Sherlock knew what 'friends with benefits' meant.

After his brother left, Sherlock sat up. He realised he liked the sound of calling Molly his girlfriend and concocted a plan of how to tell her he was going to so. The sound of footsteps on the stairs dragged him from his thoughts. Molly re-entered the room. She smiled at him. God, she had missed him these last few days. Sherlock stood up and walked over to her. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Molly, I…," he began, but was cut off by Molly's lips suddenly on his. He responded eagerly and what he had been about to say was lost somewhere in his large brain. She pulled away and placed a finger to his lips.

"Shhhh…," she whispered, making Sherlock smirk against her finger, "let's just…do what we planned to before Mycroft's interruption. Unless you don't want to anymore?"

Molly could have sworn her arm was almost torn off as she was pulled towards the bedroom, before her words had even finished leaving her mouth.

John tossed and turned all night. The recent events hadn't done anything to help. He glanced at the clock. 5:00am. He must have fallen asleep at some point. He gave up trying to settle and carefully left the bed, so as not to wake Mary who was sleeping peacefully. He went to the kitchen and made a coffee with a heavy sigh. It wasn't until he wandered down the hall, narrowly avoiding crashing into Lancelot, Mary's ferret, crashed on the sofa to watch some crap on the telly that his phone flashed. He frowned. **Who could be texting me at this time? **He frowned deeper when he remembered _exactly _who would be texting at this time.

_Can't sleep either SH_

John had to read the text several times before it sunk in. It was rather a pointless text.

_What makes you think I can't sleep? JW_

He realised Sherlock should have no idea that he wasn't next to his wife, fast asleep in a world of dreams. He smiled when he thought he had Sherlock stumped but his hopes were dashed almost immediately.

_Two reasons actually. Firstly, you're back at work now, meaning you need to settle into your old routine again. Secondly, and probably most decisive, you returned my text SH_

John scowled at the writing on the phone. **Git.**

_Did you want something Sherlock? JW_

It was a moment before John's phone flashed again.

_Yes. I need your advice SH_

John almost dropped his phone in shock. Sherlock Holmes didn't want advice from anyone usually.

_Ok. With what? JW_

_I was lying next to Molly not a moment ago and I was watching her sleep. I could not stop. She looked so peaceful. I just wanted to stay there forever. You're a doctor. What is wrong with me? SH_

John wanted to laugh and throw up at the same time. He would never have expected Sherlock to be the sentimental type. Not in a million years. The answer was so obvious except to the one person who _should _know.

_Nothing. You are perfectly healthy. There's nothing wrong with you JW_

John jumped when his phone flashed almost a second after he sent his text.

_Yes there is. I'm love with Molly Hooper SH_

_Oooh! I really like writing this. I hope you liked it just as much. Looking forward to more. See you soon, my dears xx_


	4. Decisions, Decisions

_Hey guys. I'm back with more Sherlolly moments and I hope you won't be disappointed in the direction I plan to take this… Thank you so much for all your incredible support. OMG, I am SO excited for next weekend right now. The FA Cup Final on Saturday (Manchester City FTW) followed by Star Trek Into Darkness on Sunday. WOOOOOOO! I cannot wait! This week is goin can use my free time to focus on this story though ;) xx Here's chapter 4 (it's a little shorter than some of the others)…_

John rubbed his eyes, blinking several times, staring at the words in disbelief. It took him a few moments to realise he had better reply.

_Well it's about time JW_

John thought he could have done better to reassure Sherlock his feelings were nothing to be ashamed of. This was a big step for Sherlock and now he head to learn _how _to deal with said feelings.

_What should I do? SH_

John rolled his eyes at the childishness of the text. He suddenly got the image of a schoolboy passing a note to a girl in class with adolescent declarations of love scrawled on them. This would be _exactly _the type of thing Sherlock would do to avoid the conversation. John thought for a moment before replying.

_What feels right JW_

John suddenly realised what a huge mistake this was. Sherlock's logic was to ignore these feelings that 'got in the way' and eventually they would 'go away'. What would happen then? Would they stay together? Would Molly be happy in a relationship she knew wasn't going anywhere? Sherlock and Molly would lose each other… John buried his face in his hands. **What have I done? I guess, I could tell Molly. **He shook his head. **No way, Sherlock will kill me. There's nothing to do but see how this plays out… **John swallowed and eventually drifted into an uneasy sleep.

John woke up several hours later on the sofa and found Mary stood in front of him in her dressing gown, arms folded and frowning at him.

"Well, I can see you are much happier out here," Mary said, tapping her foot. John sighed.

"I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to wake you. I'm sorry," John said, smiling nervously. Mary's expression softened and she smiled.

"Oh, love. I'm sorry, that's really sweet of you," she said, sitting next to him. He pulled her to him and put his arms around her. He wanted what he had with Mary for Sherlock and Mary. He had faith that Sherlock would do the right thing. He hoped Sherlock wouldn't fear his feelings.

"Mary, love? I think I'm going to go out for a walk," John said, removing himself from the sofa and disappeared to get dressed before Mary could say anything else. When he returned, Mary was watching the TV and he quietly left to head to St. Bart's Hospital.

Molly had a relatively boring ahead of her, paperwork for the autopsies she had done yesterday. She glanced at the clock; 11:45am. She sighed, wondering where Sherlock was. She hadn't seen him since last night. When she got up to go to work, he had been texting on his phone; John probably. He had been rather secretive about it, hiding his phone behind his back when she had come into the room. Molly wished he was here; distracting at her by staring at her suggestively, giving up and dragging her off to their favourite cupboard. Where was he? When the doors to the morgue, Molly whipped her head round but was disappointed to see John there, instead.

"Oh, hey. You haven't seen Sherlock, have you?" Molly asked. John frowned and shook his head.

"I'm really worried about him I haven't seen him since this morning," Molly rambled, massaging her head.

"He'll be fine. Probably got some top secret case to deal with…," he tried to reassure her, but it was hard when he probably knew the reason for Sherlock's absence.

"Yes, but this morning he…was texting someone and…what if he's having an affair?" John actually laughed at her insecurity.

"Oh, come on, Molly. In all the time I've known Sherlock, you are the only woman to have made an impact on him. He was texting me this morning. I just wanted to…ask him something," John said, avoiding looking Molly in the eyes. She narrowed her eyes.

"What?" She wasn't giving up that easily. John shifted awkwardly.

"Um…it-it's personal…," John said, immediately wishing he hadn't. Molly gave him a slightly uneasy look, before nodding sadly. It wasn't until she had returned to her work glumly, that John decided enough was enough…

"Molly, I…have to tell you something," he began with a deep breath, wondering how on Earth he was going to approach this.

Sherlock stood outside on a busy London high street, alone and thoughtful. Thoughtful of the events that had brought him to the place he was now. It was busy, people bustling past him and disappearing into shops, but Sherlock didn't notice them. For once in his life, he paid no attention to the people around him, figuring out their lives from the brief glances he got of them. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fumes of London's traffic. Sherlock Holmes smiled to himself as he looked at the jewellers in front of him. **This may just be the best idea I have ever had…**

_Ahhh! I really hope you are happy with the pace of this but don't panic, I have a plan, remember? Well, kinda. Right now, this is writing itself, lol. Please review and stay tuned. Thanks as always, my dears xxx_


	5. The Proposal

_Hiya Guys, I'm back with chapter 5! IT'S THE WEEKEND AT LAST! Woooo! Anyway, thank you for all your kind reviews, follows, faves and support. Without further ado, here's chapter 5 xx_

Molly frowned slightly at the look of concentration on John's face. He looked like he was choosing his words carefully before he spoke.

"It's Sherlock…he…hasn't been right since he started…going out with you," John didn't mean to be insulting but, judging by the look on Molly's face, he had done just that.

"Wha-what do you mean?" She replied in her squeak. John immediately corrected himself.

"I mean…in a good way. You've made him confront feelings he never knew he had," he sighed, frustrated. He ran his hands through his hair as he struggled through this incredibly awkward conversation. "I just want to say, you and Sherlock are perfect for each other…just remember that."

Molly frowned even deeper. John was being weird. Molly had always thought John as weird but in a way that suited him. John himself now smiled weakly, patting her on the shoulder and leaving her to finish her shift, wondering what the hell he was talking about. She sighed and returned to her mountain of paperwork. She signed piles of paperwork for what seemed like hours before she looked up. She stretched and yawned. When she dared to look at the clock, she noticed it was 10:05pm. Her shift was officially over and she couldn't wait to get back to her flat and relax in a nice hot bath. Removing her lab coat and retrieving her things, Molly looked at her phone and checked her phone. She groaned as she checked her inbox and saw the text read 'no new messages'. She clicked the lights off and headed for the outside to the comfort of her flat…

John Watson entered his house to find Mary snoring on the sofa, the TV still on. He smiled slightly and turned it off, carefully placing a soft blanket over his wife. He quietly shrugged his coat off and placed it on the rack. He tiptoed out of the room and into his bedroom. After almost drifting off, Mary burst into the room, furiously.

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" She yelled, livid. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were wide with her anger. John sat straight up and blinked in confusion…or maybe it was the sudden bright light emanating from the hallway behind Mary.

"I told you…I went for a walk," he said stupidly.

"A walk? Where did you walk to? France?" John gulped. He knew he was in trouble when Mary was sarcastic.

"No, I went to…uh," John rubbed the back of his neck. He didn't want to tell her where he really was. She'd take it the wrong way. She always does.

"Don't tell me. How is Molly then, dear? I see you're still not over your crush, then," Mary said, stomping her foot angrily. John jumped to his feet.

"How do you…?" He began but Mary interrupted him.

"Who do you think? Honestly, John! You could never have her because she was always Sherlock's. Even before they started sleeping together. You couldn't stand to see the endless flirting, the small touches that carried on way too long, those whispers, smiles, words...," Mary was hysterical now and John could only stare in amazement. He was _beyond_ annoyed with Sherlock for telling Mary this. "You could never have her, which is why you settled for me!" She was crying now and John finally found his voice.

"Mary, you are being silly. Yes, there was a time I…liked Molly. I noticed all the flirting with Sherlock but I picked myself up and _moved on. _I fell in love with the most wonderful, albeit not very understanding, woman in the world and I would not change that for the world. I love you." He looked up at her. Mary's expression had softened slightly.

"You mean it?" She asked, looking at him through her watery eyes. John looked directly into her eyes and nodded. Just when he thought he was safe, Mary spoke again.

"And, you feel nothing now?" She managed to sob out.

John hesitated for a split second. He thought about Molly. How her smile shone like the sun's brightest rays, how it managed to grow wider whenever Sherlock was around. How her hair fell down her back and glistened under the light and her pale skin looking so soft to touch. What it would be like to run his fingers through her hair and he whispered sweet things into her ear. How her lips would feel against his and her breath on his body…

"No, of course I don't," he lied.

Mary smiled and climbed into bed next to her husband, forcing him back onto the pillow. He held her tightly, hating himself with every fibre of his being for wanting to be someone else entirely at this moment.

"I'm sorry, love. It's just…I missed you, that's all," Mary said and smiled when she felt John's grip tighten. Eventually, Mary drifted off to sleep. Unfortunately, no such luxury would come to her husband that night. **I am a horrible person...** Unable to help it, he drifted off to sleep with the image of the pathologist filling his mind.

Molly Hooper arrived at her building and ascended the many steps to her flat. She was exhausted and looking forward to a nice soak in the bath. She wondered why Sherlock was ignoring her. **Maybe his avoiding me is a way of telling me it's over? **Molly forced herself to shrug this thought away. She reached her flat at last, and put her key to the lock. She was horrified to discover it was unlocked, already. She cautiously pushed the door open and stepped into her flat. It was pitch black except for a few candles placed along the floor leading to her coffee table, directly in front of her. She broke into a huge smile as she followed the candles. There was a large box with holes in lying on the coffee table. Molly was so excited she fumbled with the pink bow covering it. After ridding the box of the bow, she carefully lifted the lid and gasped in delight. An adorable, tiny kitten purred softly up at her as she smoothed it's small, fluffy head. She could do nothing to stop her tears from falling now. There was a note tucked softly into the kitten's collar. She removed it carefully and saw a familiar fancy scrawl.

_Molly,_

_I do not know about you – as a matter of fact, I do, of course, but for argument's sake – but after a long day's work, I find a hot, soothing bath is just the remedy, wouldn't you agree?_

_Sherlock_

Molly almost ran to the bathroom in her haste, dropping her coat and bag on the way, tears of happiness still streaming down her face. He wrenched the door open causing Sherlock, who had been applying the finishing touches, to jump and shower himself with water. After a moment, he cleared his throat.

"What do you think?" He seemed almost desperate for her opinion. It was the only one that ever mattered to him.

"It's…so…lovely, Sherlock. Perfect," she sobbed as she flung her arms around his neck. Sherlock held her tightly, even though he had no idea why she was crying. _He _was the one who had been setting this up all day.

"I thought you left. I thought you'd already got bored of me," Molly cried into his shoulder. Rolling his eyes, Sherlock pulled back a little.

"Do you still not understand? I love you, Molly Hooper…you're stuck with me," he smiled at the last part and Molly responded with a huge smile and another hug.

"Right, I'm going to settle Toby on the sofa," she said, ignoring Sherlock's raised eyebrow over her choice of name. "Then, I'm coming back and I want you in that bath, do you understand me?"

Her voice was demanding and impossible to resist when spoken in that seductive voice of hers. Sherlock shivered slightly and he hoped he managed to hide the effect those words had on him.

"I think I can manage that," he muttered, following her out of the bathroom. Molly was at the kitten now, smoothing her fingers over something on his collar. "Oh, there is something I wanted to ask you." Molly turned to look at him, the kitten in her arms, and noticed that he had moved to stand in front of her.

"Yes," she managed to breathe out. Sherlock took a deep breath and knelt slowly in front of her. Her tears started to fall again.

"In all my life, I never envisaged that I would one day be preparing for this moment, the moment I say the 6 most important words we will both ever hear," he took her hand with one of his while the other worked the elegant, shining ring off the kitten's collar. "Molly Hooper, will you marry me?"

"Yes, of course I will. A million times over if I could," she replied happily, without hesitation. Sherlock pushed the ring on her finger and she admired how it looked on her finger. He straightened and she pulled him into a tender kiss.

"Bath, now," she whispered, resting her forehead against his and he nodded eagerly. Sherlock pulled his fiancée towards the bathroom, losing clothes along the way in their desperation. Sometime later, the front door swung open and a well-dressed, elderly strode boldly into the flat. Molly and Sherlock were unaware of the noise form the privacy the bathroom provided.

"Molly? Why is it so dark in here?" Mrs. Hooper flicked on the light switch and gasped at the sight of the clothes strewn across the floor.

Mrs. Hooper was 'traditional' and believed that sexual intimacy should only occur between married couples. This would explain why she is so shocked to see men's clothing among her daughter's discarded ones. The bathroom door opened and Molly appeared wearing a towel and her eyes widened at the sight of her mother. Sherlock emerged a moment later, again wearing a towel. Mrs. Hooper's eyes flicked from her daughter's horrified expression to her companion's rather amused one.

"Well, do you care to explain to me what has been going on?" Mrs. Hooper asked shrilly.

Sherlock stared at the woman. **Is she really that stupid?**

_AAAAAHHHH! I really hope you enjoyed that. I had real trouble ending this one lol xx OMG I am really loving writing this and to know you are still reading is just phenomenal. Thank you all so SO much, you really are the best. As always, please review and let me know what you think and I'll be back real soon, I just can't stay away xx_


	6. The Mother-In-Law

_Hello everybody! I AM SO PISSED OFF RIGHT NOW! I am so ANGRY I can't even… ARRRGH! Full on rage mode right now. Screw You Wigan! BASTARDS! The boiling rage I'm feeling won't affect the chapter, writing actually helps to calm me down lol. I still got Star Trek Into Darkness. EEEP! Anyway, here's number 6…_

Mrs. Hooper looked from her daughter and…friend, who were standing in front of her, confused, dripping wet and wearing nothing but towels. Sherlock smiled suddenly and Mrs. Hooper narrowed her eyes. Molly looked at the floor, expecting an all-out war to erupt. Sherlock opened his mouth to tell Mrs. Hooper _everything; _just exactly what he and Molly had been doing this past month and only moments ago in the bathroom. He was, however, interrupted.

"Look, I don't want to hear it. I'm certain it was perfectly innocent, whatever. Any mindless babbling from someone who can't even dress themselves properly would just be lies anyway. Now, Molly, maybe your flatmate can carry my bags to the spare room? I'm sure he won't mind sleeping on the sofa?"

"Actually…," Sherlock protested, trying again to tell this insane woman that he had no intention of sleeping on the sofa, but again, was stopped.

"I thought not. We can have a nice catch up in the morning, Molly dear. Mummy's tired now. Goodnight, then," she trounced off in the direction of the spare bedroom; she assumed was usually occupied by Sherlock. Sherlock carried her heavy bags to her room, a look of pure annoyance on his face. Molly gave him a look which told him not to upset her mother. He sighed dramatically as he disappeared into the room.

Molly went back to the bathroom and smiled when she noticed the floor was soaking wet. She dropped her towel and picked up her pyjamas, buttoning them up and carefully slipping out before she fell over. She went into her bedroom and sat on the end of her bed, biting her lip waiting for Sherlock to return. A few moments later, her door creaked slowly open and Sherlock slipped in, also wearing pyjamas. He frowned deeply.

"I do not like that woman," he said grumpily. To his surprise, Molly started laughing softly. "It is not funny."

"Oh, Sherlock. I'm afraid you're going to have to put up with her if we are going to be married. Although, I would rather you have met my mother in different…circumstances," she said, fiddling with her hands. Sherlock nodded. "And it's not like your family is any better. I put up with Mycroft treating me like a butler, don't I?"

"Yes, this is true. I believe we both have difficult families," he had walked over to her and was kneeling in front of her. She looked at him, into those eyes she knew so well but could never explain how she managed to still get lost in them every time.

"I promise it won't be for long. Then, we can move into 221B together. Our home," she whispered, cupping his chin. He smiled weakly. "So," Molly said, her hands now playing with his hair, "how do you want to celebrate our engagement?"

Sherlock looked up into her eyes and saw that mischievous twinkle in them. He smirked at her, to see it reflected on her face.

"I have one or two suggestions," he whispered, as he pushed her gently to lay on the bed. Molly giggled as Sherlock kissed her neck. How he loved her neck.

"You know we really shouldn't…she'll hear us," Molly breathed, although she made no effort to remove Sherlock's hands from her pyjama buttons. Now, she saw the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, we'll just have to be quiet won't we?" He smiled, stroking her skin softly. "After all, we do not want your mother traumatised before the wedding, do we? Remember how loud you were last time?" Molly rolled her eyes at this.

"I had no reason to be quiet as your flat was empty this morning."

Mrs. Hooper was awake early and had dressed casually for the day, instead in the overly elegant get up she wore last night. She wandered into the living room, to find Sherlock fast asleep on the sofa, Molly's new kitten also asleep in his arms. Mrs. Hooper sighed and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. Sherlock opened his eyes. If only Mrs. Hooper knew that Sherlock hadn't slept there all night. In fact, he was pretty convinced he hadn't slept at all last night. He smiled at the thought. He stood up and strode into the bedroom to get dressed. Mrs. Hooper had the table set by the time he returned.

"Good morning," he said, pleasantly but frowning. As he sat down, Mrs. Hooper turned.

"Oh, you're up. I didn't know what you liked so I didn't make you anything," she said, turning away again. Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"It's fine. I don't eat…much," he added the 'much' to not alarm her, not that she paid any attention anyway. Molly walked in a moment later. She kissed Sherlock on the forehead behind her mother's back. Her mother smiled at her.

"Hello, dear. Breakfast will be ready in a moment. Did you sleep well?" She asked, placing a cup of tea in front of her. Molly glanced at Sherlock before replying.

"Oh, yes. Very well," she smirked into her tea. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, but smirked back. Mrs. Hooper seemed oblivious to this interaction.

"That's good, then. Here, you go. Your favourite," Mrs. Hooper placed a bacon sandwich in front of Molly. The smell made Sherlock feel sick, but Molly beamed.

"Thanks, mum. But you really didn't have to do this," Molly said, but Mrs. Hooper waved her arms, sitting opposite Molly and Sherlock.

"Nonsense. Now, we can catch up. So, what's going on with you?" She asked, ignoring Sherlock completely and talking directly to her daughter. Molly took a deep breath.

"Actually, mum. There's something we need to tell you," she gripped Sherlock's hand tightly under the table and he squeezed it firmly. Mrs. Hooper, who was eating her cornflakes, appeared not to notice Molly was talking.

"You know, I heard the strangest noises coming from your room last night, Molly dear. Were you praying?" She asked, concerned. Sherlock thought this was the stupidest question ever posed while Molly glowed bright red.

"Um…no. Why?" She asked cautiously, guessing what was coming. Mrs. Hooper shrugged.

"It's just for someone who wasn't praying, you seemed awful desperate for God, dear," Mrs. Hooper said, innocently. Molly choked on her tea, masking the small laugh that escaped Sherlock.

"It wasn't God your sweet little Molly was desperate for last night, Mrs. Hooper," Sherlock muttered, smirking, earning himself a kick under the table. He needed to get out; this endless probing was wearing on him. He needed his flat to think.

"I'll be at 221B, rearranging," he whispered in Molly's ear, and slipped out of the kitchen unnoticed by Mrs. Hooper, who was in a one-way conversation with herself.

That morning, John had been in the kitchen with Mary and she had been chatting about one of her friends who had just given birth. John realised this was her way of discussing having children and shuddered at the thought. He didn't want children but at the same time, didn't have the heart to tell Mary. He had stood up suddenly and made the excuse of going to the shops for milk. John's sole task now was to focus on getting Molly Hooper, soon-to-be Mrs. Molly Holmes, out of his head. He loved Mary, of course he did. So, why were his thoughts filled with Molly? This very question was why he was, now, stood outside 221B Baker Street, preparing to ask the consulting detective this very thing.

_Well, I feel much better now! This was quite good fun to right and I hope you enjoyed reading it. Please review and I'll see you soon xx_


	7. Situations

_Hiya, guys! I'm in a better mood this time round, STAR TREK INTO DARKNESS was epic, and I really recommend seeing it. Anyway, for those interested about the whole 'John's feelings' saga I've posted a one-shot flashback type thing that should hopefully clear up any confusion. I hope you are enjoying this story because I love writing it xx Here's 7…_

John hovered on the steps for a while, trying to think how to word his…predicament. It was only half an hour ago that Sherlock had text him the news of his engagement to Molly. John was unsure at the time how he had felt about the news. Confused? Yes, confused was the best word to describe it. Sherlock Holmes…engaged? It was now or never. He took a deep breath and opened the door. It felt like forever he was climbing those stairs. John had only imagined what Sherlock would say and do when he told him. He shuddered at the thought. **Not a psychopath. **The thought entered his head and made him feel slightly better. But only slightly. Upon opening the door to the room, he found Sherlock lying on the sofa with a look of deep concentration on his face, eyes closed and hands clasped under his chin. **He's in his mind palace. **John cleared his throat. Sherlock jolted himself from his thoughts but didn't acknowledge John or open his eyes.

"Thinking," was all Sherlock said. In fact, he was sorting the various rooms in his mind palace that had now become filled with so many things about Molly Hooper. He had managed to find a whole floor to store everything he found he loved about her. Who knew there would be so much?

John looked around the flat. There was clutter everywhere, but something was different. It was piled in stacks and tucked away in corners. It looked almost organised. The kitchen was littered with various different experiments, case files and hospital paperwork. The flat looked almost presentable for it belonging to Sherlock Holmes, anyway. John spotted a bizarre card on the mantelpiece in front of that damned skull. John walked over and picked it up. The picture on the front was of two boys standing on a beach somewhere; the older of the boys was gripping the younger's shoulder and holding a beach ball in the other arm while the younger boy was tall, skinny and looking incredibly annoyed. The younger boy had a very distinctive and familiar cheekbone structure. John frowned in slight curiosity as her opened the card. A posh and elegant scrawl adorned the space inside.

_Dear brother,_

_I understand that you have entered into a mutual agreement with that charming pathologist. As soon as I 'heard' I just had to offer my congratulations. Naturally, I would have liked to present this in person. Alas, my duties prevent me from doing so. Nevertheless, I wish to invite you and your…fiancée to the family estate to celebrate with Mummy. Perhaps you can bring that charming doctor and his wife along to? Please reply, you know how I detest having to drop by for your response._

_Mycroft Holmes_

John stared at the unusual card. Why did Sherlock need a formal invite to his own estate? Shaking his head, John remembered how he had always found it weird that Mycroft needed to add his last name at the end of his cards. He received one from him once, for the same reason; his engagement to Mary. MARY!

"Um, Sherlock, we need to talk," John said, his confidence dropping with every word he spoke. Sherlock, again, said nothing.

"It's about Molly, actually," John muttered, impatiently. Sherlock snapped his eyes open with a frustrated sigh, clearly not about to get any peace. He remained lying, however, hands still clasped.

"It appears, you have my full attention," Sherlock said, fixing John with his deductive gaze, making John more uncomfortable. John shifted awkwardly, making Sherlock narrow his eyes. After a few moments of silence, Sherlock sighed again, turning away, apparently bored from the lack of communication. Annoyed, John suddenly looked up and blurt out the subject he intended to break softly.

"I think I'm in love with Molly," he yelled at the unsuspecting detective, who had turned to consider him. John held his breath. **This is how I'm going to die.**

Molly sat fuming on the sofa, softly stroking Toby and scratching him behind the ears. This was the last straw. Her mother was currently locked in the bathroom making herself presentable. Molly had been ordered not to disturb her. Apparently, she had a routine she had to complete before anyone was allowed to see her. The woman had to go if she was to move into 221B with the most wonderful, brilliant, sexy and delightfully quirky man she had ever met. _And _Molly Hooper got to call him her fiancé. This thought alone was enough to cool her burning rage and make her smile in dizzy happiness. Dizziness. Unusual dizziness. When exactly had the room started spinning? Molly carefully lifted Toby off of her lap and she ran down the hall to the bathroom. She knocked on it sharply.

"Mum? Have you finished? I need to use the bathroom, I'm going to be sick," she yelled, desperately through the door. Mrs. Hooper sighed dramatically from within. The door swung open and Molly shot in. Mrs. Hooper looked worried.

"Darling, are you all right? You're sweating buckets," Mrs. Hooper commented, turning back to her mirror and dabbing at her face. She said nothing else. When she had finished, Molly stood up shakily and addressed her mother directly.

"I'm fine, it was probably that damned bacon you cooked," Molly said, shivering involuntarily. Mrs. Hooper tutted.

"Nonsense, darling. I'm a marvellous chef," she smiled widely. Molly, for some reason, lost it then.

"Mother! We need to talk. No, I'm going to talk and you are going to listen for once. Now, I'll be waiting in the living room," Molly wearily trudged out of the bathroom. Mrs. Hooper was stunned into silence and decided not to try her daughter's sudden temper. She left the bathroom and went into the living room, sitting opposite Molly, who was now wearing a shirt that was too long. A man's shirt…

"Ok, as you know, Sherlock has been living here. Yes, that's his name," Molly added as she noticed her mother's disgusted expression. Molly was surprised she was still holding her tongue. She continued. "Well, he hasn't just been sharing my living space…," she faltered momentarily, hoping the penny would drop so she didn't have to explain to her mother she had been having passionate 'encounters', as her mother put it, with her supposed flatmate. Mrs. Hooper's face remained blank.

"Then what else?" Mrs. Hooper asked when Molly still didn't answer. Molly was amazed. How long had she been married? Molly lost the temper she never knew she had for the second time.

"My bed, Mum! For God's sake, we haven't _exactly _been going about it privately. I mean, yesterday evening you have no idea how close you came to walking in on us," she had jumped to her unsteady feet and was taking deep, sharp breaths and Mrs. Hooper was clutching her heart. Molly knew she was only being dramatic. "That's not all! I'm selling the flat and moving in with my fiancée…," she flashed her gorgeous ring at her mother. "How do you feel about that!"

Molly had sat back down now, uneasy about the returning dizziness. For a moment, Mrs. Hooper looked completely shocked. Then, shockingly, her face lit up into a smile.

"At bloody last, girl! I've been _waiting _for you to tell me! Oh, come here! I'm so happy for you," Mrs. Hooper grabbed Molly and hugged her tightly. Molly's brain flashed with the same question over and over. **What? What? WHAT?**

"Excuse me?" Molly asked disentangling herself from her mother. Mrs. Hooper was beaming from ear to ear.

"Oh, darling, he's such a sarcastic little sod, but he's quite dashing, ain't he?" Mrs. Hooper said, eyes twinkling. Molly was still struggling with coherent thought.

"I…uh…what? You're not mad?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad? He looks like he does well for himself. I am so glad that nice young man from the government, no less, informed me of the events I had ignored. Oh, come on, darling, I was married for 25 years. I learned a thing or two," Mrs. Hooper said, nudging her daughter. Under normal circumstances, Molly would have been mortified. "I just wanted to hear you tell me. It took you bloody long enough."

Molly shook her head. How had she not seen this coming? How had _Sherlock _not seen this coming? **Mycroft, that bastard! **Mrs. Hooper took her hands in her own.

"As for this flat, I was thinking. I live a long way out from you and, well, I have missed you. The house is too big for just me and Barnaby. Do they allow budgies here? Anyway, I'll buy the flat, it'll give you a nice little bit towards the wedding, eh?" Mrs. Hooper looked hopeful. Molly smiled.

"Oh, mum! That's so sweet of you, thank you. You're almost forgiven for pulling such a stunt," she said, hugging her mother tightly. Too tightly. As Molly dashed for the bathroom again, Mrs. Hooper looked around the flat. **I think I'm going to like it here…**

It seemed like forever John had been standing waiting for something…anything. Sherlock turned away again with a soft sigh.

"No, you don't," Sherlock said softly, not looking at John. John was utterly confused.

"Um, yes I do. I know my own feelings, Sherlock," John protested. Sherlock just proceeded to shake his head.

"You should, but, no," was all Sherlock said. As John continued to stare into space, Sherlock whipped his phone out to reveal a new message.

_Job completed! Well done, Mr. Holmes x_

Sherlock smirked at the text and sent one back quick as a flash. John was still stunned into silence, but fury was building. **How could he possibly know what I'm feeling?**

_Excellent! Well played, Mrs. Hooper. If I was you, I'd certainly consider a career in acting SH_

Sherlock received a reply almost immediately.

_Call me, Joyce x_

Sherlock smiled and tucked his phone away and stood up, grabbing his coat. He wrenched the door open and ran out. Suddenly remembering, he doubled back.

"Can you lock up when you leave? I'm going to Molly's," Sherlock said, before turning and leaving. John shook his head. **What the hell just happened?**

_Uh, so yeah! Hope you enjoyed that chapter. I certainly did *evil laugh*. In all seriousness, I did enjoy writing that chapter and I hope you had as much fun reading it. See you next time, loves xx_


	8. A Condition

_Heya, guys! Back so soon? I am overwhelmed by how well this story is being received and I am pleased to say it is far from over! Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews and support, I love you all. Here's number 8…_

John angrily wrenched the front door open and threw his jacket onto the coat rack. He was muttering nonsense curses to himself when Mary's voice sounded down the hall.

"Is that you, love?" John sighed. **No, it's a bloody fairy. **He calmed himself, after all, it wasn't Mary's fault Sherlock was a git.

"Yeah, just popped to Sherlock's. He's having a clear out ready for when Molly moves in," he said the last part with a heavy sigh. This went unnoticed and Mary had ran out of the living room with a gasp.

"Molly's moving in with Sherlock? When did this happen?" She shrieked excitedly. John shrugged.

"I dunno, 'bout an hour ago, I reckon. Well, they kind of have to move in now that they're engaged," he rubbed the back of his head subconsciously. Mary shrieked again. John wished she wouldn't.

"Shut up! Molly never told me," Mary pouted, folding her arms. John smiled at how childish she was. Mary trudged off to the kitchen, muttering about sending a grumpy text to Molly. John stood in the doorway and watched as Mary furiously tapped at her phone. He realised there was probably only one way to get over Molly.

"Mary, can we talk about…what you want to talk about," John said, sitting down opposite her. She frowned in confusion not taking her eyes off of her phone.

"What's that, then?" She asked, sending her text with a grin. John swallowed.

"Having kids," he finally replied, looking her in the eyes. Mary's eyes widened in shock as she registered what he was saying.

"Are you sure?" She asked, narrowing her eyes. He thought for a moment. Maybe a little John Watson running around wasn't such a bad idea. John could teach him how to catch a ball, insult Sherlock and tease Mary. It didn't sound bad at all.

"Yes. Yes I am," he answered and Mary's smile illuminated the entire room.

As soon as Sherlock had entered the flat, he knew something wasn't right. There were piles of blankets thrown on the sofa despite it being an average temperature. There magazines piled on the coffee table and medical journals abandoned on the bookshelf. Sherlock frowned as his eyes scanned the scene. Toby was asleep among the pile of blankets. A faint retching noise could be heard coming from the bathroom. He tore down the hallway and burst in to find Molly kneeling in front of the toilet and her mother frowning at her, a hand on her back.

"What is going on? Are you alright, Molly?" He asked, frantically, crouching beside her. She was sweating and she looked rather pale, but she nodded.

"I'm…fine, just a little bug," she said, carefully standing up. She wobbled slightly but was steadied by a strong arm winding itself around her waist.

Sherlock walked her into the living room and settled her gently on the sofa, pulling blankets on her. Toby meowed in frustration of being woken up but resettled on Molly's lap. She lazily stroked his fur. Joyce had followed, the concern on her face matching that of her future son-in-law. Sherlock gently began stroking her hair.

"What is it?" he asked her gently. Molly looked up at him. She smiled weakly.

"I feel fine, honestly. Aside from all the throwing up, I am ok. Just slight dizziness," she said, shakily. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. It was clear to Molly that he didn't believe her. "It was probably the bacon I had this morning." Joyce tutted, folding her arms. Molly ignored this.

"The effects of food poisoning would not occur until the next day, surely?" Sherlock suggested productively. Molly shrugged.

"What else could it be?" The couple looked at each other, bemused until, Sherlock sighed.

"Well, you do work in a hospital. It is only reasonable to say you picked up something whilst at work," he said logically.

Molly nodded and stood up, ignoring the protests from Sherlock and her mother. She sidestepped around them, the overwhelming dizziness she felt threatening to tip her over, and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water. It felt refreshing to taste and she found she could keep it down. This was a good start. She returned to find Sherlock alone and sat on the sofa, stroking Toby making him purr. Molly, suddenly, felt an inexplicable surge shoot through her like a bullet. She watched Sherlock's long fingers play with Toby's soft delicate fur. How they softly teased the skin and ran up and down the small animal's back. His fingers were incredibly enticing. She licked her lips apprehensively and looked around the flat.

"Where's Mum?" She asked, not really caring about the answer. She felt the dizziness again and slumped next to Sherlock to stop the room spinning. She rested her head on his shoulder and let her eyes drift closed as his hand had softly rested against her head. When Sherlock spoke, his deep voice vibrated through her body causing her to shiver involuntarily.

"She went to the shops to find you some kind of remedy," Sherlock replied, stroking her hair softly now. She noticed how he tended to do this a lot. "How do you feel?" Concern was evident in his voice. Molly opened her eyes and smiled.

"You want to know how I feel?" She asked, lifting her head slightly to get a better view of his expression. He answered the question with a slightly confused tone.

"Yes, hence the nature of my question," he said. He looked at her. **Maybe her illness has made her slightly delirious. She doesn't seem to know what she is saying. I had better be careful.**

"I'm feeling…," she looked thoughtful for a moment before looking directly at him. After a long pause, Molly spoke in a whisper, "…hot."

It wasn't often Sherlock was baffled but this was one of those times. **What does she expect with that amount of blankets? Honestly…**

"I suggest you remove your vast quantity of blankets, then. That might be more efficient," he said, moving to tug the blankets from her. Molly took this opportunity to grab him and pull herself onto his lap, straddling his hips. She bent to whisper in his ear.

"No, Sherlock. I'm _feeling_ hot," she whispered, her breath hot on his ear. Normally, Sherlock would have found this impossible to resist. But, the consulting detective di have morals.

"Um…Molly. I am not certain that engaging in such activities would be a reasonable suggestion," he protested, as she assaulted his neck with her lips. He bit his lips tightly. **What kind of illness gives a woman an insatiable appetite for sexual gratification?**

"Molly, please. I am more than happy to engage you when you are fully healthy, but may I remind you that you have spent the entire morning in the bathroom," he said, prying her hands off of him. Molly sat up and huffed loudly.

"Fine," she said, climbing off of Sherlock and stomping down the hall to the bedroom. Sherlock sat there bemused. **That's what I receive for being respectable. **Sherlock took out his phone and text John. If anyone, would know, it would be a doctor.

_Molly is not feeling well today SH_

His text was brief but it explained the truth. When John had text back, Sherlock rolled his eyes at the predictability of the message.

_Is she ok? What's wrong with her? JW_

Sherlock gritted his teeth as he tapped in his response. **How tedious.**

_Constant sickness, dizziness, temper tantrums. I am not entirely sure if the last point qualifies as a symptom SH_

It took John a while this time before he answered.

_No idea. It sounds like a general sickness bug to me JW_

Sherlock threw his phone behind him. **What a great help you are Doctor Watson. **Sherlock leant back on the sofa and began to think. There had to be something. For some reason, to Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, this was no ordinary stomach bug. He had to talk to Molly…just as soon as she opens the door…

_I hope you all liked that chapter and remember it's far from over ;p I try and update as soon as I can so stay tuned. I have a feeling I won't be gone for long! xx_


	9. Secrets

_Hello again guys! Sorry, the update has taken a while. My Netbook has been pissing me off. Anyway, it seems to be ok now and I have this new chapter! Oh, I have a feeling you are going to like this one. Well, I hope you do anyway. I am rather excited about this one and I hope the wait is worth it. Anyway, thanks for the lovely reviews, they make my day and without further ado, the one I believe you have been waiting for. NUMBER 9 xx_

_Buzz Buzz!_

"I'm sorry, love," John sighed as he picked his phone up from the kitchen table. Concern was etched on his face as he read the text. "It's Sherlock, Molly's not feeling well."

Mary groaned opposite him. They had been in the middle of an extremely important conversation. Trust Sherlock to ruin it.

"Ignore him, we have more important things to talk about," Mary said, flicking through dozens of leaflets from the NHS John had picked up. She huffed as John typed in a short response. As John finished the text to his worried best friend, Mary began frantically searching for something.

"Damn it! I left my calendar upstairs. Could you get it for me, love?" Mary asked. John nodded and hurried upstairs, not questioning why she couldn't do it herself.

_Buzz Buzz!_

Mary's eyes flicked down towards the source of the noise. **He didn't take it with him. **She didn't even have to look to know it wasanother text from Sherlock. Quickly glancing in the direction of the stairs, she seized John's phone and read the message. It seemed to be a list of symptoms. Mary acted upon anger. **Can he not leave us alone for one goddamn minute?**

"Sorry, Sherlock. But he is mine, today," Mary muttered as she tapped in a message she knew Sherlock would just have to accept.

John's footsteps sounded on the stairs and Mary quickly replaced the phone back on the table. Mary sat back in her seat just in time.

"Here you go, love. Found it on the bed," John said, handing the calendar to Mary. Mary smiled appreciatively. John sat back down on the chair and grabbed his phone. He frowned when he saw there were no new messages. **Clearly the great consulting detective doesn't ****_need _****the expertise of a fully qualified and able medical doctor who has seen more than anyone can possibly imagine. No, ****_he _****wants to figure this one out for himself…**

"…to work out a system. I've booked us an appointment at a family planning clinic. They can give us some advice," Mary finished saying, completely unaware her husband hadn't been listening. John nodded quickly to give the appearance of total concentration. She began sorting through the papers laid out in front of them. John groaned and Mary smirked to herself. He was going to be hers all night and she _was _going to get pregnant. Mary Watson had never been so certain of anything else before…

Sherlock was annoyed. He was _still _sat on the sofa. Thinking. **What could possibly be wrong with the woman?** The more he thought about it the more annoyed he became. Sherlock had never encountered a problem he could not solve. Until now, and it frustrated him beyond belief. Even John, a qualified medical doctor, didn't know but then again he, as John would put it, 'had his own shit to deal with'. He probably didn't even acknowledge Sherlock's concerned text. Sherlock shook his head. **The complexities of the female anatomy still astound me. **He was disturbed from his thoughts from the door opening. Joyce entered carrying a small bag. Sherlock noticed she held it close to her. He could just make out a long box inside.

"What is that?" Sherlock asked her, pointing at the bag. Joyce just sighed.

"It's for Molly. I'll pop in and see her, and I am sure she would want to see you after so don't go anywhere," Joyce told him.

Sherlock sighed and nodded, slumping back on the sofa, almost squashing the sleeping kitten. Joyce smiled at him and patted his shoulder as she passed. When she had disappeared into Molly's room, Sherlock jumped to his feet and began pacing. After what seemed like forever, Joyce emerged from the bedroom. Sherlock looked up and strode towards her.

"You can see her now. I'm just popping out to see an old friend of mine. I'll see you later. Look after her, she's a little…emotional," Joyce said, nodding towards Molly's room. Sherlock frowned and watched as Joyce left the flat.

He turned and cautiously wandered down the hall and stopped dead outside the bedroom when he heard a soft, loving voice purr softly.

"You've got great timing, little one," she was lightly chuckling as she spoke and Sherlock leant against the wall, listening intently. "Mummy and Daddy would have liked to have been married first, though. But I promise you, timing or no timing, you are going to be…so loved. So loved."

Molly finished her sentence on a whisper and Sherlock could almost feel the love and affection poured into the words. Sherlock was surprised to find he was getting emotional. He thought to himself for a moment. He and Molly had discussed children and had mutually decided they wanted to be married before committing to parenthood. Sherlock found he was excited about the prospect. A child. _His_ child. Carefully pushing the bedroom door open slowly, Sherlock stepped in the bedroom to find Molly, crying softly with a hand placed lovingly over her stomach. She had the box Joyce had brought in the other. Sherlock recognised it as a pregnancy test. Without saying a word, Molly reached into the box and pulled out the test. She placed it in front of her. Sherlock moved towards her and sat on the bed, peering at the little blue cross. He could no longer contain himself. He pulled Molly into a tight hug. Her eyes widened, but she responded enthusiastically.

"Well, this was a better reaction than I anticipated," she smiled into his shoulder. Sherlock released her and looked into her eyes.

"Molly, I am here to stay. For better or for worse…you are stuck with me. With us," Sherlock was saying, his hand resting on her stomach with her hand. Relief flooded Sherlock as he cursed himself for being so ignorant towards women. **Of course, it seems the only appropriate solution. **Molly chuckled slightly as she looked at him. Molly was sure she had never been happier than at this moment.

"However, there is one thing that is still unexplained," he said, biting his lip. "We have been careful these last few months. It was to my knowledge that couples could not conceive whilst…protected."

Molly laughed at this, rolling her eyes.

"What? Remember after you solved that case, last month? You had been so pleased and I was working the late shift. You just couldn't wait."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he remembered that night. It had been a particularly trying case and he needed Molly right then. He didn't care where they were. **Great. Thanks to my high sex drive, caused by one Doctor Hooper, we inadvertently conceived our child in the hospital morgue. Oh, why did I not take Molly to an empty room!**

"It doesn't matter where it was. It's here now," she said, looking at their hands again. She looked up to see Sherlock shaking his head.

"Yes, _she _is here now," Sherlock said, smirking at his fiancée. Molly raised an eyebrow.

"She? What makes you think that?" Molly asked with a smile. Sherlock shrugged lightly.

"Father's instinct and I am hardly ever mistaken," he replied with a little smile. Molly threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, tears flowing again.

"I don't know what I would do without you, Sherlock Holmes. You are my whole world," she was sobbing. Molly wasn't sure if it was the romance or the result of the tiny human growing inside her.

"Molly Hooper…I never realised how wrong that sounds. Mrs. Molly Holmes…that is what I am looking forward to. Little baby girl Holmes…that is what I am living for now," he replied with the most emotion he had ever shown. She chuckled softly.

"Oh, you're going to look silly if it's a boy," Molly said, stroking his hair. He sighed softly at the feeling.

"No. I will have a son or daughter either way. I will look anything but silly," he answered, kissing her gently.

John rubbed his eyes and yawned. It was 10:00pm and he was sitting at his kitchen table in his dressing gown. The trip earlier to the family planning clinic had been uneventful. Well, they had picked up a leaflet and sat through an annoying lecture about do's and don'ts. He sighed. **This is becoming more like work, than creating life. **He got up, preparing to leave for his bedroom, when his phone buzzed.

_Molly is pregnant. She wanted me to inform you so she and Mary could be 'baby buddies'. Her words SH_

John had to read the message several times before it sank in. He felt an overwhelming sense of happiness for the couple. He realised he had been staring at the message for several moments.

_Wow, Sherlock! That's fantastic. Congratulations! JW_

A few minutes passed. Nothing.

_Sherlock? JW_

John's phone buzzed suddenly in his hand.

_Busy SH_

John knew better than to ask what he was busy doing at this time of night. He rolled his eyes and climbed up the stairs, eager to tell Mary the exciting news.

"Sorry to wake you, love," John whispered as he climbed into bed. Mary sighed sleepily.

"S'alright, just drifting off," Mary smiled as he snaked his arm around her waist and snuggled into her. John closed his eyes and began falling asleep when he remembered.

"Oh, great news. Got a text from Sherlock. Looks like we are not going to be the only parents around here," John said happily. Mary opened her eyes wide open. A moment later, she heard soft snoring against her neck. John was fast asleep. No such luxury was coming to Mary Watson that night…

_Ugh…so…much…sweetness…! I really hoped you guys liked that and that I didn't disappoint. xx Please review and I'll be back real soon xx_


	10. Moving In

_Whattup, guys. I hope you're all still interested and liking it because I am loving writing this. Thank you so much as always, you guys keep me going! Ok, time to move things along…or 'in' I should say ;)_

Mary left the bedroom that morning while John was still fast asleep. She left him a note on the table, explaining where she was. The sun was shining so she left her coat on the rack. She had to see Molly…to talk to her. She walked to the end of her street and waited for a cab. The journey to Baker Street was a short one and she gasped when she saw the sight in front of her. A large van was outside 221B and they were carrying things in and out. The deliveries were being overseen by Molly and her mother. Mary left the cab and wandered over, just in time to hear Molly berating a rather sweaty delivery man.

"Look, I was just saying you should be careful. That's my stuff, my fiancée will not be pleased if anything gets ruined," Molly was saying. Mary walked over and saw the man bow his head and return the unloading, with noticeable care. Molly turned to see Mary and smiled.

"Mary, it's been a while. How are you?" Molly said, hugging Mary who returned it gingerly. Mary swallowed.

"Um…yeah, I'm fine. John told me…you and Sherlock are…expecting?" she said, with great difficulty. Molly looked uneasy.

"Yeah…look, I'm sorry…I asked Sherlock to keep it quiet for a little bit but…he said it was me that wanted to tell John…he's like a little kid when he wants to be. Don't worry, Mary, it will happen for you, one day," Molly tried to be sympathetic and respectful, but she had little experience with this kind of thing. Mary nodded. **Well, I wanted this so badly, even ****_before _****you started screwing Sherlock and it happens to you so bloody soon? How is that fair? Why can't I be as fertile as you guys? **

"Where's Sherlock?" Mary asked, desperate for a change in conversation. Molly was only too happy to oblige.

"He's on cases. As many as he can, we need all the money we can get, what with the wedding and the…uh…," Molly faltered.

Luckily, she didn't have to finish her sentence as, suddenly, a crash sounded. Molly sighed heavily and strode over to the van. A nervous looking teenager was standing over the contents of a box that had spilled onto the street. Books and medical journals littered the streets and something had rolled by Joyce's feet. It looked like a skull.

"Is Sherlock getting rid of his skull?" Mary asked nodding at the item John had mentioned once or twice. A pleased smile spread across Molly's face.

"Actually, that one's mine. It got pretty lonely sometimes, I just wanted something to talk to. I know it's weird," Molly shrugged, as she bent down to pick up some of her items. Mary sighed.

"Actually, something tells me that justification will be welcomed," Mary muttered to herself. Mary followed Joyce, who had taken the teenager to help inside the flat. Molly huffed angrily as she shoved her things in new boxes.

"Can I help you?"

Molly looked up to the sound of a man's voice. He had a kindly face and a lovely smile. He wasn't bad looking, either but Molly didn't notice. She nodded slowly, standing up. She was a little curious as to why this man wanted to help her. Maybe it was something about being the future wife of the world's most observant man that made Molly wary of others. The man bent down and started placing her things carefully into boxes for her.

"Thank you, that was really sweet of you. You didn't have to do that," she said, once he had straightened up. He brushed his suit off.

"Not at all, I was glad to help someone out. Especially, someone in your condition who really shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting," he said, flashing a grin. Molly frowned.

"How did you know I was…," she began but he chuckled.

"I can see it in your face and the way you hold yourself. You, like most expectant mothers, cannot wait," he smiled and Molly nodded, satisfied with his answer and very happy that he had noticed.

"Would you like a drink? As a thank you," Molly offered as more delivery people bustled around by the van. The man shrugged.

"I think I can manage a cup of coffee," he said, grinning again. Molly turned to walk into her flat. She stopped and turned to the man.

"I'm Molly, by the way," she said, holding out her hand. The man took it and shook it slowly.

"Jim Moriarty, and it's a pleasure, Molly," Jim said, releasing her hand, with a smile. Molly turned around and walked up the stairs to the flat followed by her new acquaintance.

"No, no, NOO," Sherlock was saying as he paced Lestrade's office. The detective inspector was clutching the sides of his head in pain while John looked between both men with interest.

"Sherlock, there in conclusive proof that suggests suicide, there is no other way," Lestrade said, banging his hands on the table in front of him. Sherlock sat down angrily, his hands in their traditional thinking pose. After a while, he spoke again.

"If we can get an autopsy, you will see that I am correct. The gunshot wound occurred after death. It was to ensure it," he was speaking to himself as he jumped to his feet again.

He closed his eyes and the scene played out in front of him like a movie. Sherlock navigated his way around the room, muttering details and pointing to things only he could see.

"Mrs. Smith was walking home one quiet night, alone. She was wearing her favourite clothes, fancy clothes. She was looking for a good time, this was evident of the drugs, cocaine I believe, found in her bag. She had been thrown out by the owner. She was aware she was being followed, by her drug dealer probably. She started running, her heel broke, this we know. She stopped and was pulled into the nearest alley...," Sherlock squinted in concentration and Lestrade sat up straight. Sherlock snapped his eyes open, "she was murdered."

Lestrade sunk back down in his seat. "Yes, Sherlock so you've said. The post-mortem revealed she died of a heroin overdose-."

"Yes, YES. That's it, do you not see?" he yelled looking from Lestrade to John. Both shook their heads and Sherlock licked his lips in anticipation.

"If she died of a heroin overdose, where is it? Only cocaine was found on her person," he relaxed a little as Lestrade breathed a sigh of relief.

"Ok, so we know how she was killed. But we don't know who," John said, rubbing the back of his neck. Sherlock spun around on his heel, his back to the room. John could almost see the mechanisms in his brain working.

"Oh, yes we do. Follow me, I think it's time we returned to the scene of this crime," Sherlock said, hurrying out of the door at lightning speed. Lestrade and John scrambled to their feet and hurried after him.

Molly was sitting her new flat, with her best friend, mother and new friend and was laughing. Everyone had a cup of coffee except for Molly, of course. She had settled for a glass of water, something she had recently acquired an un-quenching thirst for. Molly poured herself yet another glass.

"So, Molly. Have you had any cravings yet?" Jim asked, sipping his coffee carefully. Molly shook her head.

"It's still pretty early days, but mind you, this is Sherlock's child so I don't think I'll get any," she giggled, and Mary nodded understandingly. Joyce looked so proud of her glowing daughter.

"Oh, isn't this exciting? What are you hoping for?" Joyce asked, putting her empty cup down on the table. Molly shrugged.

"I don't really mind. Sherlock keeps insisting it's a girl, though," she sighed happily. Joyce tutted and nudged Mary, who smiled softly. Jim looked at his new friends closely during their private conversation. **I don't know about those two. Molly, however, such a lovely woman. Brains and beauty, a dangerous combination… **Jim smiled to himself.

"Oh, look at the time, I better get going, John will be waiting for me," Mary said, excusing herself. Molly stood up and hugged her friend goodbye. Mary waved at Joyce and nodded towards Jim and left the flat. A moment later, Joyce stood up to leave.

"I had better go and settle into my new flat then," she said, excitedly hugging her daughter. "I'll see you tomorrow. Your father would be so proud of you."

Molly tutted. "I doubt that."

"Nonsense, you got the world's most sexually repressed man to impregnate you," Joyce said, patting Molly on the shoulder. Molly blinked for a few moments. She wondered if her mother had slipped something other than sugar into her coffee.

"Goodbye, Jim dear. If you're ever lonely, my flat's just around the corner. Molly will tell you where," she winked at him before stumbling out of the flat. Molly sighed and smiled at her new friend.

"I am so sorry about that. It doesn't take much for her to get like this, nowadays," Molly said, but Jim smiled.

"It's ok, she is rather pleasant," he said, but he still looked a little frightened. Molly giggled and Jim put down his cup. He was about to say something but the front door opened and someone was walking up the stairs. Jim raised his eyebrows, but Molly didn't see as she took another swig of her drink. Jim watched as the door swung open to reveal a tall, wild-haired man with the air of someone extremely clever and 'clued in'. Sherlock looked at Molly, who was looking rather comfortable sat on the sofa in a casual red shirt and her favourite skirt that Sherlock was suddenly very aware was nowhere near covering her knees, even when she stood up. He also noticed someone sat next to her, way too close for his liking. In reality, he was quite a distance away from her. **Who the hell is this?**

"Hello, Molly. Who is your…friend?" Sherlock said, making no attempt to hide his dislike of the man he didn't know. Molly smiled as she introduced the two men.

"Jim, this is my fiancé Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is my new friend, Jim Moriarty. We met after a delivery prat dropped my stuff everywhere in the street," Molly said. Sherlock reluctantly shook the man's hand. He had cruel eyes, and Sherlock could see something in them but he wasn't sure what.

"Molly's told me so much about you," Jim said, releasing Sherlock's hand. Sherlock nodded.

"Indeed," he turned to Molly, ignoring the confused expression on Jim's face.

"If you had called me, I would not have hesitated to return to assist you," he said, making no attempt to keep his voice low. Molly rolled her eyes.

"Don't be silly," she said, standing up, "I'm just nipping to the bathroom. All that water your child wants. Be back in a minute, babe."

Molly kissed Sherlock's cheek and left the room. Sherlock looked towards Jim who was watching Sherlock with intrigue. **This is going to be fun, **Sherlock thought as he prepared to give Jim the ultimate deduction.

_Ok, I thought it was about time for the green-eye monster to make an appearance ;p I hope you liked that chapter. Please review, as always and thank you so much for reading. It is always greatly, greatly appreciated. xx See you in the next chapter xx_


	11. The Scan

_Hello and welcome back…WOW it's been a while and I am so sorry about that. I'll make it up to you, by presenting you with an offer. As you are aware, the stork will soon be visiting our favourite couple and I am just terrible at picking names ;p This is where YOU come in. If you would like the chance to name the baby, send in your suggestions (the more you have the greater chance you'll have at being picked) and I shall put them ALL in a hat and draw one out. I will post the result with a picture on Tumblr (to show I'm for real, lol :) Thank you for your kind patience and for reading, reviewing and even bothering, lol. Now, I'm not usually one for spoilers (not that this can be considered as such) BUT I hope you're ready for Jim's true intentions and sheer evilness :o xx Thank you for your awesome support it is greatly appreciated as ever…I hope you like this one. Here's #11 (I cannot wait to see your suggestions) xx_

Sherlock looked the stranger, who was sitting in his spot on the sofa, up and down. He opened his mouth to speak but Molly's reappearance forced him into silence. Molly sat down next to the man and smiled, leaning back and caressing her stomach. Sherlock stomped over to his laptop to check his e-mails, all the while watching this stranger like a hawk.

"So, Jim, what do you do for a living?" Molly looked at him and Jim seemed at a loss for words, causing Sherlock to frown and pout like a small child. **Oh, so they're on first name terms?**

"Unemployed," Sherlock muttered from his place by the laptop without looking up. Molly ignored him but Jim looked intrigued.

"Um, I'm actually in London to…discuss business with an old friend who is in a bit of a predicament," Jim shot Sherlock a look that seemed mocking. Molly looked fascinated and nodded, shifting in her seat to become more comfortable.

"Oh, well I hope everything works out for you."

**Oh it will. **Jim smirked into his coffee, which was observed by Sherlock. Molly yawned and stretched which prompted Sherlock to cease his sulk.

"Do you not have your _own _life to be getting back to?"

"Sherlock!" Molly glared at him but the detective wasn't paying attention. He was too busy scowling at Jim. **Wow, if looks could kill. What does Sherlock have against Jim? He's only just met him.** Jim shook his head and stood up to leave, smiling at Molly.

"No, its ok, he's right. I have overstayed my welcome. It was lovely meeting you and I shall hopefully see you soon."

To Jim and Molly's utter surprise, Sherlock stood up as well, stepping towards the door. Ignoring Molly's look of warning, he turned to Jim.

"I'll show you out," Sherlock insisted, opening the door. Jim nodded and followed him out. They descended the stairs in silence and Sherlock stopped in front of the door.

"Now, Molly is very dear to me as you well know, but she is not the best judge of character. I do not know who you are or what you want with her but let me give you a warning. Stay away from my family, or suffer the consequences," Sherlock hissed at the man. Jim started laughing folding his arms and fixing Sherlock with a cold gaze, completely different from the act he was just displaying for Molly.

"You don't remember, do you?" Jim tilted his head slightly, his eyes darkening with hatred. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and studied the man. He could read nothing but what he had already discovered. Jim sighed impatiently tapping his foot. "Sebastian Moran ring any bells?"

Sherlock frowned. "Yes, I recall the name. He was Colonel in the Army and he went on a killing spree; his commanding officer cleared him of shell-shock so it is my belief he was acting on other orders from a 'higher power'. It was due to my efforts that we managed to find him. I am pleased to have him behind bars." Jim smiled wickedly, his hands curling into fists.

"Correct. You are a hard man to track down...You see, this is where we have a problem. I need my Seb out of prison. People who disobey me won't kill or torture themselves, you know," Jim was staring at Sherlock, evil showing in his once kindly features. Sherlock stiffened. **Ah, behold the mighty 'higher power'.**

"Of course. You are the source, the one Moran answers to. Why? Well, that remains to be seen. Now, listen very carefully…if you come anywhere near here again, I will not even bother with the police and take the law into my own hands, as it were," Sherlock whispered venomously. Jim's smile disappeared suddenly.

"Now, now, I have no quarrel business with your pathetic domestics. No, Mr. Holmes, I'm going to bargain with you. Get Seb out of prison; that is all I ask. If not, I will not be able to keep my promise. I will come after you all…one…by…one. I will burn the heart out of you…right before your eyes," he stepped closer with each word, his eyes threatening. "and…as I watch you fall to pieces…I will laugh in your face."

The coldness of his words echoed around Sherlock's mind palace even after he heard the door open and close, the stranger disappearing into the crowds of London. He was untraceable and ready to carry out his threats at any minute. It would take a lot to convince Molly of what Jim had just said. He had to listen and carry out his wishes…for the sake of his family. **I have to do this…for Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, John and Mary, Joyce, Mycroft, Molly and our daughter…**

Mary returned from her trip to Baker Street to find the house empty. She sighed as she entered. Watching Molly blissfully happy and in love today was so hard. Molly had everything she had ever wanted and Mary couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of envy. She shook her head. **What are you on about, woman? You have the sweetest, most supportive husband in the world…it will happen for you. Just like Molly. **Mary sighed heavily as she slumped into the kitchen chair, thinking to herself. The sound of the front door opening jolted Mary from her dream world.

"Oh, hi love. I thought you were at Sherlock's?"

Mary smiled and ran to hug her husband. John held her tightly as Mary sobbed into his shoulder. Confused, John chuckled and tried to make a joke.

"Hey, it's alright. I only went to the shops."

Mary chuckled softly and clutched John even tighter. She mumbled something into his shirt which made John's stomach drop.

"I want a baby, John. So much…"

John dropped his shopping onto the kitchen table and led Mary into the living room. After sitting her down and bringing her a cup of tea, he took a deep breath and sat next to his wife.

"There's always…adoption…"

Mary blinked her tears away at John's words and a new thought process had begun to weave itself into place. They hadn't even thought about this before. If they were infertile, this seemed the best process. John was smirking at her now.

"In the meantime, there is no reason why we cannot keep trying…"

Mary giggled as John took her hand and gently eased her to her feet, guiding her to their bedroom.

The next few weeks passed rather quickly considering the new developments. After several more appointments at the family planning clinic, John and Mary decided they were getting nowhere. They had gathered a collection of adoption leaflets and were determined to go through with it. Molly had been incredibly supportive when she had told her – well, when she had emerged from the bathroom – and had congratulated her bravery. Sherlock, however, had been factual and statistical, giving her information and facts about people who adopt. John had to have a stern word with him afterwards. They also hadn't heard from Jim and Sherlock wondered if he was going to get Moran himself. The weeks passing also meant that the scan was fast approaching. Molly was nervous but Sherlock seemed rather excited. He was determined to be proved right about the baby's gender and was positively jumping for joy at the thought of seeing 'her' for the first time.

"You cannot be serious, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked up from the laptop with a raised eyebrow. Molly was searching through a bag of baby things given to her by various members of the Hooper and Holmes' clans. She was holding up a T-Shirt that Sherlock himself had put into the pile. It was pink and flowery and extremely pretty.

"What is wrong with it?" Sherlock folded his arms and smirked slightly. Molly rolled her eyes.

"We can't send it to nursery with a T-Shirt that says 'My father is smarter than yours'. What if a wrestler reads it?"

Sherlock laughed and shook his head, tapping furiously at his laptop.

"Then, although I may not match his strength, I will outsmart him with my cunning brain."

Molly rolled her eyes as she placed the T-Shirt fondly at the top of the pile. She gathered her bag and keys, smoothing her T-Shirt down over her bump, which she caressed lovingly. Sherlock watched her out of the corner of his eye and secretly felt a surge of…happiness. This was strange to him but it felt good. A knock sounded at the door and Sherlock announced the door was open. John stepped into the flat that was formerly his and looked around, his eyes sweeping the messy flat. Baby things covered the place, as well as several pieces of discarded experiments. John nodded in mock approval until his eyes rested on Sherlock. His face was covered in tiny, red scratches, some looked painful and the most alarming thing was neither seemed to care.

"John, what is the matter?"

Sherlock was looking at his friend curiously and Molly had stopped sorting through the clothes. Her back was becoming stiff so she moved to the sofa and put her feet on an old bag of clothes. John blinked rapidly and gestured towards Sherlock's face, to shocked to speak. **What the hell has he done this time? **Instead, though, Sherlock smirked and Molly blushed. John wished he hadn't asked.

"It seems _someone's _hormones got the better of them, last night. Got a bit…_overexcited _didn't we, dear?"

Molly rolled her eyes, her cheeks burning red with embarrassment whilst Sherlock looked pleased with himself. John shook his head, cursing himself internally. He was desperate to change the subject as the looks Molly and Sherlock were giving each other were making him feel uncomfortable.

"Uh, so shall we go then?"

Sherlock and Molly had invited John along to the scan; unfortunately, Mary was busy at work. Sherlock closed the lid of the laptop and gracefully moved over to Molly and pulled her to her feet. This was the moment…the one they had been dreading and waiting for at the same time.

Molly shifted uncomfortably as she waited for the nurse to return. John sat on a stool in the corner with his arms folded as he watched Sherlock pacing up and down, his hands clasped under his chin and muttering extremely quickly to himself. The nurse returned and gave Molly a huge smile.

"Right then…Molly, shall we take a look?"

"Well, obviously that is what we are here for."

The nurse shot Sherlock an irritated look as she gently placed the gel on Molly's exposed tummy. John felt uncomfortable suddenly, like he was intruding on their moment. He didn't want to leave, though. A few moments later, the nurse was moving a device across Molly's stomach to try to get a clear picture.

"Ah, there we go…"

Sherlock stopped pacing and approached the screen, gesturing for John to do the same. The picture was hard to make out and the nurse pointed to where the baby was situated. Molly breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed Sherlock's hand tightly. John felt a swell of pride at the picture. **I may see it a lot at work, but it is truly incredible. **The nurse beamed as she held the device in place, speaking in a soft tone.

"Yes, everything seems to be fine. I shall carry out an external examination momentarily. Nothing to worry about, just to check everything is in the right place. I can guarantee they are fine, though."

Molly blinked rapidly, Sherlock frowned and John rubbed his head, certain he had misheard. They all were. Sherlock was the first to find his voice.

"I'm sorry…did you say…'they'?"

The nurse smiled looking from each member of the small group.

"Why, yes. Twins generally come in twos. Congratulations!"

The nurse was practically laughing, assuming they already knew. **I knew we should have gone private.**

_*gasp* Now, there are TWO babies for you to name, so a slight increase in chances ;p Thank you so much for reading and sticking with this story! Love you all xx Stay tuned and it shouldn't be TOO long a wait for the next one, lol. xx_


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